Savos Aren's Project
by mathncoffee
Summary: Falcotte continues his adventures as a member of the College of Winterhold. On an errand to deliver some letters to Solitude, he becomes the victim of a Thalmor project. The Falcotte Chronicles: Episode III


Falcotte's hand started to cramp, and his vision had become blurry. He carefully set the pen aside, got to his feet, and stretched his arms above his head. He'd spent the last three hours transcribing scrolls in the Arcanaeum, and he needed a break. It was exacting work that required complete focus, and it inevitably led to all of the muscles in his back and shoulders tightening up to the point of cramping. Falcotte had finally reached the point where he couldn't continue without risking a mistake; and that would just make Urag gro-Shub angry again.

He had forgotten about asking the Master Librarian to send out searchers if he didn't return from his visit to Agnia the Witch in a reasonable amount of time. After Falcotte had been gone a week, Urag gro-Shub decided that something had probably happened to Falcotte and had set off himself to search the road to Agnia's cave. He reached the mine below Agnia's cave and talked to Angvid. After learning that Falcotte had arrived and departed to return to the College, Urag gro-Shub gave up the search. He hadn't seen any sign of Falcotte on the road, and there was no way he could effectively search the wilderness between Winterhold and the mine on his own. He returned to the College with little hope of ever seeing Falcotte again.

When Falcotte returned to the College a few days later with Ilmeni Nelas, Urag gro-Shub was torn between relief and titanic rage. The Master Librarian didn't show any sign of relief, however, as he hurried toward the young mage, cursing in the Orc language and making wild gestures with his hands.

A small crowd gathered to watch as Urag gro-Shub circled Falcotte and shouted at him for several minutes. Falcotte stood, frozen to the spot, trying unsuccessfully to keep from shaking in fear. He couldn't understand anything the Master Librarian was shouting and couldn't figure out why he was so furious.

Finally, Urag gro-Shub lapsed into the Common language and said, "…four days on the road looking for your corpse!"

At that point, Falcotte remembered the request he had made. Falcotte felt incredible shame for causing Urag gro-Shub so much trouble and concern. He tried to explain about going on to Windhelm, but the Master Librarian cut him off with a slashing gesture of his right hand.

"You owe me, Falcotte!"

Ilmeni tried to explain what happened and that she had insisted on Falcotte traveling with her.

Urag gro-Shub just shook his head and stared into Falcotte's eyes as he said, "There is no excuse. You owe me a debt and will repay in full. For every hour that I was on the road searching for you, you will spend two hours copying texts in the Arcanaeum. You will copy them to MY satisfaction."

Falcotte had spent nearly every waking hour in the Arcanaeum since then, copying scrolls and texts. Many were old and fading, and someone needed to copy them before they were too faded and became lost forever. Some were in languages he didn't understand, and a couple were in entirely different writing systems. Falcotte's copy had to be exact and correct, and the Master Librarian had an uncanny ability to spot even the slightest error or omission.

Urag gro-Shub's anger subsided after the first few days, but he was inflexible about payment of the debt. He kept meticulous track of the time Falcotte spent repaying it.

Falcotte walked around the chair and table while lifting his arms over his head and letting them slowly drift back down to his side. All the time he was lifting his arms, Falcotte flexed his fingers to get the blood flow back to the tips and stop the tingling in his palms.

Falcotte was just starting to relax and get full circulation back in his arms and hands when the entire tower shook violently and a wave of pure energy washed over him. He became totally disoriented and couldn't seem to focus on Urag gro-Shub who had come running and was shouting at him. Falcotte's head started to clear when Urag gro-Shub grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted in his face.

"Get out of here and into the courtyard. I need to set the wards to protect the books and scrolls!"

Falcotte still couldn't think clearly. He looked around and saw that several books and scrolls had fallen off the shelves and were scattered around on the floor. The bottle of ink on the table where he had been working was tipped over, and ink was pooling on the table and soaking into the scroll he had been copying. Falcotte started moving toward the table to clean up the mess.

Urag gro-Shub growled deep in his throat and picked Falcotte completely off his feet. "You need to get out of here so I can activate the wards!" he screamed as he carried Falcotte to the stairs that led down to the Hall of Elements. When they reached the stairs, Urag gro-Shub placed Falcotte back on his feet and gave him a shove. "OUT!" he bellowed.

Falcotte finally regained enough of his senses to feel fear, and he hurried down the stairs and through the door that led into the Hall of Elements.

He met with a scene of utter chaos and panic. Students and instructors were running by, shouting or crying. He could see inside the main chamber. A shimmering wall of energy surrounded the Eye of Magnus, and Ancano was casting some spell on the artifact from where he stood below it. Outside the protective wall, Falcotte saw Mirabelle Ervine pacing and making gestures toward Ancano and the Eye.

"The Arch Mage is dead!"

"Winterhold is under attack!"

The cries of alarm and panic produced more alarm and panic. Rather than get in the mix and add to the confusion, Falcotte left the Hall of Elements as quickly as he could and got into the open air of the College courtyard.

There were more students and staff running about outside, and Falcotte saw a group of people standing around a body on the ground. He recognized the clothing; it was the body of Arch Mage Savos Aren.

The Restoration Master, Colette Marence was kneeling beside the dead body, weeping uncontrollably. Occasionally, she would stop long enough to cast some spell in an effort to revive that Arch Mage, but none of her efforts had the slightest effect. Each failure seemed to increase the volume and intensity of her wailing.

"Unseemly, isn't it?" Falcotte was startled by the voice and realized that Phinis Gestor was leaning against a stone wall to his left.

"His spirit has departed. She might as well be casting her spells at a rock for all of the good it will do." Phinis shook his head and continued, "Until the Eye of Magnus issue is resolved, I would stay as far from the College as I could if I were you. This may very well be the end of the College altogether."

There was more yelling in the courtyard, and a group of students and instructors rushed out the main gate toward Winterhold.

"I had better go help them. You, just stay out of the way or you will be one more corpse we have to bury when this is finished. One thing is for certain, the people of Winterhold are going to hate us even more when this is over. I knew this would end badly." Phinis headed toward the gate to join in the defense of Winterhold.

Falcotte briefly considered trying to help but realized that the Phinis was right and that he would just get himself killed. Instead, he ran to the Hall of Countenance and climbed up to its roof. From the roof of the tower, he had an unobstructed look down into Winterhold.

There was pandemonium and panic in the city. Falcotte could see the city watch and residents of the College battling what appeared to be balls of light darting about. Occasionally, he would see eruptions of flame and hear explosions in the distance. The students and instructors from the College were casting spells at the creatures and the city guards were hacking at them with swords or bashing them with maces.

The momentum of the battle was with the defenders almost from the start, and they dispatched the light creatures one by one. It took nearly an hour, but, eventually, the attackers were all defeated. When the battle ended, Falcotte could see several bodies lying in the streets of Winterhold.

Everything seemed to pause, and the clamor and yelling stopped suddenly. Falcotte couldn't even hear anything from the College courtyard. It was as if everyone in the College and Winterhold took a long, deep breath at the same instant.

After a too-short pause, the shouting and wailing resumed.

Falcotte returned to the courtyard. Colette Marence was still weeping over the body of the Arch Mage, but she had regained her self-control. Some students nearby were constructing a litter to transport his body to a more appropriate location. Other students and staff were cleaning up the mess caused by the eruption of magical energy that had rocked the entire College.

Falcotte spotted Urag gro-Shub and rushed over to talk with him.

"What was that eruption?"

The Master Librarian shook his head. "I don't know for certain. Maybe Ancano caused it when he invoked that field around himself and the Eye of Magnus.

"For now, the wards are set around the library, and as long as I am alive nothing will harm the books. The catch is that no one can enter the library either."

"What will happen now?"

"Mirabelle is probably working on some plan. With the death of Savos Aren, she is in charge and by all rights, the new Arch Mage. I have not talked to her about any plans she might have, but I think the College is going to have to close until this matter can be resolved.

"Better get your things packed up and start thinking about where you will go when you have to leave, Falcotte."

The Master Librarian left to search for Mirabelle Ervine. As they had been speaking, the instructors and students who had fought in Winterhold started coming into the courtyard. Among the defenders, several were injured, some were minor injuries, but there were several with more serious wounds.

Colette looked up from the Savos Aren's body when the group entered to courtyard, and she immediately started noting the injuries. Her training overcame her grief, and Colette got to her feet and started treating the most serious injuries. The Restoration Master seemed lost and adrift much of the time, but she became focused and calm when her healing talents were required.

Falcotte spotted Ilmeni Nelas among the wounded defenders and went over to see how she was doing. Ilmeni's right arm was in a sling, and she had a bloody strip of cloth wrapped around her head. She looked up at him and grimaced, "I have no idea what those were, but I wouldn't want to fight them every day."

Falcotte watched in alarm as her knees began to wobble, and her eyes rolled up in her head. He rushed forward and caught Ilmeni under the arms just as she started to collapse and shouted in alarm. The Restoration Master appeared seconds later, unceremoniously shoved Falcotte out of the way, and began examining Ilmeni. Falcotte stood by long enough to learn that Ilmeni had simply fainted, and there wasn't a more serious issue. After Colette had completed her examination and departed, Falcotte left the scene and went to his room in the Tower of Attainment.

A few hours after the end of the attack, Jarl Korir was at the gate demanding to speak with the Arch Mage. After learning of Savos Aren's death, he demanded to see whoever was in charge. Mirabelle Ervine spent the better part of the next hour listening to the enraged Jarl of Winterhold rant about his people being slaughtered in the streets by foul creatures that escaped from the College. Mirabelle apologized, tried to explain what happened, apologized again, tried to explain why it wasn't the College's fault, apologized again, tried to explain what she and the College were doing to repair the damage, and apologized again. Nothing she said seemed to appease Jarl Korir's anger, and he eventually left in a huff, still cursing mages in general and the College in particular.

The College of Winterhold was in an uproar for the next several days. People were assigned repair projects in Winterhold and the College, and others left on various errands to other cities in Skyrim. Falcotte asked Urag gro-Shub if he needed any assistance, but the Master Librarian shook his head.

"Ancano is still sealed in the Hall of Elements working some magic on the Eye of Magnus. I will not risk lowering the wards on the Arcanaeum until we find a way to dislodge him. No one, not even me, can enter the Arcanaeum until I remove the wards, so I don't have any work to do beyond remaining alive.

"Just do what you can to help clean up the College. I wouldn't venture into Winterhold tough. The Jarl was enraged, and the mood of the people is probably more hostile than it normally is. Several of the city watch died during the attack, and the people blame us for those deaths."

Urag gro-Shub headed off to do whatever a Master Librarian did when he couldn't get into his library.

Falcotte spent most of the days following the attack helping the Restoration Master tend to the injured and wounded. He had become proficient at a number of healing spells and could quickly mix potions to heal and treat a variety of ailments. Along with the physical wounds from the energy explosion and attack in Winterhold, many of the College inhabitants were suffering from dizziness and the inability to concentrate. Colette speculated that these people had somehow been particularly sensitive to the shock of such a power wave of magical energy. The shock continued to affect them long after the actual event.

Nothing seemed to provide permanent relief for these individuals. Falcotte could treat the symptoms and provide temporary relief, but the symptoms always returned. Colette Marence didn't know why the problem was persisting even with treatment, and she couldn't provide any more relief than Falcotte.

An alarming result of the affliction was that the individuals' ability to use magic was limited while suffering from the dizziness. They couldn't focus and concentrate sufficiently to control the flow of magic. As time passed and the symptoms kept returning, the sufferers began to fret and worry about ever regaining their full ability to control magic.

Falcotte was working with the Restoration Master four days after the explosion when Mirabelle Ervine approached them. The former Master Wizard, now Arch Mage even if she wasn't using the title, nodded quickly to Falcotte and then looked at Colette and said, "I found this when I was going through the Arch Mage's belongings."

She handed Colette a sealed envelope.

"It is addressed to the Senior Hospitalier at the Imperial Infirmary in Solitude. You studied there didn't you, Colette? Do you know why the Arch Mage would have a magically sealed letter addressed to the Senior Hospitalier?"

Colette shook her head. "The Imperial Infirmary is where I first met the Arch Mage. He was visiting Senior Hospitalier, Darius Cosades, and Darius introduced me to him when they toured the facilities.

"The following day, Arch Mage Aren and Senior Hospitalier Cosades met with me and suggested that I come to the College and continue my research and studies here. The previous Restoration Master had retired and moved back to Cyrodiil, and Arch Mage Aren wanted me to take the position. I wasn't too excited about leaving Solitude for Winterhold, but the opportunity to work and study here was too good to pass up.

"That was ten or eleven years ago. I haven't talked or corresponded with Hospitalier Cosades since then. I don't have any idea why the Arch Mage would be writing a letter to him. Of course, I don't even know why the Arch Mage was touring the Imperial Infirmary in the first place unless it was just to find a new Restoration Master."

Mirabelle nodded her head. "Let me think about this. I don't think it is wise to attempt to open this, so we probably need to deliver it to the Imperial Infirmary."

Two days later, Colette asked Falcotte if he would be willing to take the letter to Solitude. She had volunteered, but Mirabelle had refused, claiming that she needed every instructor and staff member to remain close to the College. The College would provide Falcotte sufficient funds for the carriage travel, lodging, and other expenses. It would be much safer and more comfortable than his trip through the wilderness with Skar the Hunter when he had traveled to Ivarstead.

It was also a chance to get away from the College and see more of Skyrim, and Falcotte agreed immediately. Ancano was still sealed away with the Eye of Magnus doing only the Divines knew what. Maybe it would be safer traveling the roads of Skyrim in a carriage. There was still a dragon somewhere, but there had not been a reported sighting near Winterhold, and none of the few visitors to the area had reported seeing it during their travels. Falcotte decided that it would be a good idea to get away from the College and Winterhold for a while. It was an especially good idea since the College was funding the trip.

Preparations took longer than for his previous excursions away from the College. Both Colette Marence and Mirabelle Ervine wrote letters to the Senior Hospitalier explaining the situation and offering any assistance the College could provide the Hospitalier Order. Securing funds was also more complicated. Unlike Jarl Korir who funded his travel to Ivarstead and could simply direct his Steward to provide the necessary funds, The College protocols required filing forms justifying expense. Mirabelle Ervine and Avik Sendu, the College Quartermaster, had to sign and date all of the forms before Falcotte could actually get the funds for the trip.

During his preparations, Falcotte learned that he would be traveling, at least for a while, with two of his fellow students. Both had been at the College longer than he had, and he hadn't ever spoken to either of them. One, a Dunmer, was returning to her family homestead on Solstheim and would be on the carriage as far as Windhelm. The other, the son of a wealthy Cyrodiil merchant, was traveling to Markarth to oversee his father's business interests there until matters at the College were resolved. Like many of the other students, they had decided that with the Arcanaeum inaccessible their studies could not progress. It was probably best to get away before Ancano's treachery resulted in another catastrophe and more death and destruction.

On the morning of the day he departed, Falcotte was up before sunrise to finish packing. There was an atmosphere of peace and calm as very few others were out of bed. He could still feel the slight energetic pulse from the Eye of Magnus, but it was weak enough that it was only noticeable if he paid close attention. After everything he was taking was packed and ready, Falcotte climbed to the top of the Hall of Countenance and waited for the sunrise.

From the top of the Hall of Countenance, he could look out to the East and see the horizon many miles away. On the right, he could see the north coast of Skyrim where mountains sprang up from the cold waters of the Sea of Ghosts. He could also see the numerous small islands stretching out to sea from the stretch of coastline. The sky was getting lighter and Falcotte could see the outline of the islands against dark water of the Sea of Ghosts. Occasionally, he would see bits of detail when the lighting was just right, and then the detail would fade as the lighting changed. Near the horizon, several bands of clouds formed layers of dark gray with light blue sky between them. It was a stunning sight.

As sunrise approached, the lower edges of the clouds lit up and glowed with a rich, gold light. Purple and dark gray gave way to gold, orange, red, and pink, and shafts of sunlight would suddenly erupt and illuminate different portions of the clouds and then slowly fade away again.

Falcotte felt a shiver run down his spine when the disk of the sun peaked above the horizon. A bright yellow glow erupted and the red and orange glows brightened for a time. The sun rose above the horizon as the minutes passed. It passed between the different layers of clouds, alternately being blocked and then shining between the cloud layers.

Falcotte squinted his eyes mostly closed to keep from having to look away from the incredible scene unfolding on the horizon. He was enthralled by the alternating bright, golden light of the sun and the clouds edged with golden fire when the sun was behind them. Eventually, the sun rose above the top layer of clouds and continued climbing into the cloudless, blue sky above. The last of the vibrant colors faded from the scene.

Falcotte emerged from his reverie and blinked his eyes several times. The warm sun shone on his face, and a sense of peace and calm covered him. He thought that this must be what the first man to watch a sunrise must have felt.

The world suddenly intruded on Falcotte as noises from the College and Winterhold waking up and getting on with the day started to reach him.

Falcotte collected his thoughts and returned to his room to gather his belongings for the trip. Everything was packed, and he had stored the three letters in an enchanted pouch. Falcotte had hidden his funds about his person and pack so that a single pickpocket or cutpurse couldn't take everything at once. Even if bandits robbed him, there was a chance that they would not find some of the coins, and Falcotte wouldn't be left completely destitute.

When everything was ready, he headed into Winterhold to wait for the carriage to depart. The residents of Winterhold had become more distant and openly hostile since Ancano had released the creatures on the city. The fact that the College had sent forces to battle the creatures did not lessen the ill feelings since the attack was the College's fault in the first place. Even though his relation with the residents of Winterhold was good considering that he was a member of the College, Falcotte avoided the residents and found a secluded place to wait for the departure of the carriage.

The trip to Windhelm was uneventful. The other two College students knew each other and immediately separated themselves from Falcotte as much as possible. They kept up a constant conversation but didn't make any effort to include Falcotte and responded in single words when Falcotte tried to join in or ask a question. The driver was caught up in whatever thoughts he had and rarely said anything to any of them.

This was the sixth time Falcotte had made the carriage trip between Windhelm and Winterhold, and he found himself thinking about the special spots along the road and significant events from the previous trips. The driver and fellow passengers left him to those thoughts, so he spent most of the time lost in them and looking at the rugged, beautiful scenery.

The carriage arrived at Windhelm early in the afternoon. The weather was cold and windy with dark gray clouds covering the sky from horizon to horizon. They switched carriages and drivers at the stables outside the city, and Falcotte took the opportunity to walk around and stretch his legs while cargo was being offloaded and transferred to the new carriage. The student heading to Solstheim had a final conversation with the one heading to Markarth and departed without speaking a word to Falcotte. The whole process took a couple of hours as the new carriage had to be packed and outfitted and the drivers exchanged information. An elderly Nord man came hurrying up and climbed aboard just before the carriage started out on the next leg of the journey.

They had barely started moving when a terrifying scream came from the south. The driver stopped the wagon and everyone turned to look toward the sound. Several miles away, a black dragon hovered in the air, occasionally flapping its wings to maintain position. It had to be a huge beast for them to be able to see it from such a distance. The dragon lifted its head up and sent a huge blast of flame skyward. Several seconds later, they heard a repeat of the scream.

Everyone in the carriage seemed frozen in place, unable to look away from the dragon.

After several seconds, the great dragon flapped its wings several times to gain altitude, turned south, and flew off toward the Throat of the World, the highest peak in Skyrim.

Everyone was beginning to relax when they heard another scream. Another dragon flew into the air, lighter in color and not as large, but still impressive. For several minutes, it flew around in great loops, occasionally dipping toward the ground and letting out blasts of flame. Finally, the dragon hovered for a few seconds and then descended toward the ground for a final time.

The people in the carriage could not see what occurred after that. The land sloped up to the south, and the second dragon had landed on the far side of a rocky ridge that blocked their view.

The dragon continued to scream for a few more minutes, but then stopped.

The carriage and riders remained frozen, waiting to see if the dragon would return to the air. After ten minutes of silence, except for the blowing wind, the driver flicked the reins to get the horses moving again.

Falcotte felt the need to talk about what they'd all just witnessed, but his fellow student was looking in the direction they were traveling with his back stiff and straight. The old Nord was staring back toward where the dragon descended, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Falcotte knew that he wasn't in the mood to talk about anything.

Falcotte returned to his thoughts and watched the passing scenery.

They had been on the road three days before he'd worked up the nerve to speak to the Nord passenger. The old man's sense of gloom and despair had shown no sign of lifting, and Falcotte spotted tears in his eyes on several occasions.

Finally, Falcotte asked, "What is troubling you, grandfather? Are you worried about a dragon attacking the wagon?"

The old man looked at him for several seconds and then answered, "Death by dragon fire would be a mercy at this point."

Falcotte waited, not wanting to force the man to talk if he didn't want to share his sorrows. The man finally continued, "My sons died within weeks of each other. An Imperial archer killed the elder, a Stormcloak fighting for Ulfric. I had just finished burying him before getting aboard this carriage.

"His younger brother, a soldier in the Imperial garrison at Solitude, died in a Stormcloak ambush a few weeks ago, and word reached me just before I made arrangements for his brother's burial. I am on my way to Solitude to pay my final respects to my younger son."

Falcotte bowed his head. What could he possibly say to a man who was suffering such horrific losses?

"I am sorry for your loss, and I apologize for intruding on your grief, sir. Please forgive me."

Several minutes passed and then the old man sat up straight, and looked around briefly before focusing on Falcotte. He said, "Perhaps the Nine have sent us a plague of dragons to remind us that we are Nords and should be acting like brothers instead of killing one another."

"Will the Nords set aside their war with one another to face the dragon threat as a united people?"

The old man shook his head. "No. They are too proud and stubborn. Both sides will continue to fight the other and pray that the dragons do more damage to their foes than the dragons do to them. Ulfric and General Tullius would both gladly sacrifice the lives of thousands of Nords on the opposing side to the dragons if it brought their side an advantage in later battles."

"Even if it meant their own eventual destruction by the dragons because they didn't have sufficient forces of their own to defeat the dragons?"

"The only thing that matters is that their side perishes last."

"That is truly a sad thought. I am Falcotte." He held out his hand to the old Nord.

"Bjorn the Rock," replied the Nord gripping his hand.

The two men continued to talk and exchange stories. Bjorn's sorrow did not lift entirely, but it began to lessen as he told stories of his sons and their different paths. Bjorn had spent years as a warden, wandering the wilds around Falkreath looking for bandits and poachers. The boys had lived with his sister in Falkreath. As they grew older, each developed his own ideas about what it meant to be a Nord and be a subject of the Empire. Eventually, the younger son fled Falkreath because he and his brother had actually drawn weapons on one another in a fight outside Dead Man's Drink. He made his way to Solitude and volunteered for duty in the Imperial legion.

Bjorn had been away, and when he returned home, he found his younger son gone and the older son preparing to travel to Windhelm to join Jarl Ulfric and the Stormcloaks.

Falcotte didn't detect any reaction from Bjorn when he admitted to being a student at the College of Winterhold and that he was traveling to Solitude to deliver a message to the Hospitaliers. He talked about his travels about Skyrim and recounted his long journey between Daggerfall in High Rock and the College.

"If everyone in the Empire knew how beautiful this land was, there would be endless streams of people just to look at the mountains and sky."

Bjorn actually smiled at Falcotte's declaration. He began to talk about the lands around Falkreath and the other regions where he'd traveled. When Bjorn mentioned Riverwood, Falcotte started talking about Skar the Hunter and his own adventures in the region. Soon, the two men were comparing impressions of the regions both had seen.

They continued to talk about the beauty and majesty of Skyrim as the carriage carried them along.

The other student from the College did not join in the conversation and departed when they reached Whiterun. They changed driver and carriage again. Falcotte thought about his previous visit to the city; the dragon had just recently destroyed Helgen, and Whiterun was nearly paralyzed with fear. The dragon was still about, there might even be more than one now, but life had returned to nearly normal after the initial shock and terror had worn off.

Bjorn and Falcotte were the only passengers when the carriage departed Whiterun.

The carriage ride from Whiterun to Solitude took almost three weeks. The first part was through the rolling hills and grasslands that stretched out to the west, away from Whiterun. They passed the remains of ancient Nord settlements and abandoned Imperial fortresses. This region of Skyrim, the central plains, was dotted with farms and homesteads where Nords had been scratching a living from the land since coming to the continent.

About half way through the journey, they passed through the village of Rorikstead. They paused to pick up additional passengers bound for Solitude and bags of wheat and crates of vegetables bound for the market stalls in the city. The people were typical Nord farmers, quiet and generally suspicious of strangers but reasonably friendly after you spent some time with them.

After the stop at Rorikstead, they turned more to the north and started climbing back into the mountains. The farther north they went, the less talkative Bjorn became. He was slowly settling back into the place of silent depression he'd been in when he climbed on the carriage in Windhelm. Falcotte let him go and didn't try to draw him back out. He thought the man had every right to mourn the deaths of his sons in any way he saw fit.

A few days out from Solitude, the road passed over a bridge across a deep gorge. The Karth River rushed by below, on its way to pass by Solitude and empty into the Sea of Ghosts. Midway across the span, the carriage passed under an arch, topped by a sculpted head of a dragon. On the other edge of the gorge was another small village, aptly named Dragon Bridge. Again, passengers bound for Solitude climbed aboard and crates of goods were added to the cargo.

Falcotte thought about how valuable these carriages were to life and travel in Skyrim. They were faster and generally safer than traveling on foot. Along with the goods and people, the carriages moved news and information across the kingdom. He had travelled many miles on them and had grown to appreciate the relative comfort and convenience.

The carriage finally reached Solitude the day after they had passed over the Karth River. Bjorn had slipped completely back into his silent, distant mood and only nodded slightly when Falcotte told him good-bye and wished him well.

Falcotte was excited when the carriage arrived at Solitude, and he felt his spirits lift as he passed through the gates and entered the city. He stepped into a large open area. Looking down a wide, cobbled street, Falcotte could see several store fronts with brightly painted signs advertizing their wares. At the far end of the avenue was a large fortress, and Falcotte could see a number of armed and uniformed guards patrolling the wall and grounds outside of the fort. As he looked at the fortress and roadside shops, Falcotte felt a growing sense of cold dread building up on his right shoulder. His shoulder actually started to grow numb as he stood and looked toward the fortress.

Falcotte looked to the right and saw a stone platform and headsman's block on the far side of the open area. This had to be where public executions occurred. The few people passing by stayed as far from the platform as possible and avoided looking toward it. He stared at the block for a minute or so then walked toward the platform. A few people passing by watched him approach it. Most just shook their head and made a sign to protect themselves from evil before hurrying off to wherever their business was taking them. A few made harsh comments before departing. Falcotte didn't know why he felt so drawn to the macabre platform, but he couldn't seem to stop his approach.

There were steps up the platform on the far left end, but Falcotte ignored them; he didn't feel any need to set foot on it. He stopped and stood at the midpoint of the platform, staring at the dark stains on the stones and block. The longer he stood staring, the colder and number he felt. After some time, Falcotte noticed something lying on the stones within easy reach. It was a leather cord and amulet of Talos. It was out of place in such a grim spot. The worship of Talos and display of his talismans was outlawed, and possessing the amulet in the heart of Imperial power in Skyrim seemed particularly foolish. Perhaps, he thought, it had belonged to one of the condemned who had somehow smuggled it to the block in order to provide some comfort in their final moments.

He knew he was being foolish, but Falcotte reached down, scooped up the amulet, and put it in the pocket of his cloak. He thought that he would toss it away later, but he didn't want it to remain in such a grim spot. After placing the amulet in the pocket, the fascination he felt for the platform evaporated, and Falcotte turned his back and walked away.

The offices of the Hospitalier Order were in the fortress he saw when he entered the city, Castle Dour. Colette Marence had given him directions to the main entrance, and he headed toward the building. In addition to the Hospitaliers, the fortress housed the Imperial garrison headquarters for Solitude was well as the residence of the Emperor when he visited Skyrim. The Temple of the Divines was also located on the castle grounds.

He passed through the people visiting the shops along the road. They didn't pay any attention to him; they had their own concerns. As he approached Castle Dour, however, he saw that the guards started to take notice of him. Once it became evident that the intended on entering the castle grounds, a pair of the guards approached him. They weren't exactly threatening, but Falcotte noticed their hands going reflexively to the hilts of their swords.

When Falcotte was a few yards away from the gate, one of the guards held up his hand and said, "Stop. What business do you have at Castle Dour?"

The three men stood and looked at each other for a few seconds before Falcotte replied. "I am from the College of Winterhold, and I am bringing messages from College members to the Senior Hospitalier, Darius Cosades." Falcotte held up the bag containing the letters.

The guard that spoke nodded, turned to his companion, and said, "Go to their offices and tell the watch officer that he needs to come out here and speak with the messenger." Turning back to Falcotte he continued, "Are you carrying any weapons, messenger?"

Falcotte held out his arms and turned around slowly. "I am not armed." The guard nodded and the two of them waited without speaking for the Hospitalier watch officer to arrive.

The second guard had departed as soon as instructed and returned after a couple of minutes with a tall, powerfully built man wearing white and red robes over a coat of chainmail. The watch officer looked at Falcotte expectantly, and after a few seconds said, "Well?"

Falcotte held up the bag containing the letters and said, "I am from the College of Winterhold. I was sent to deliver these messages to the Senior Hospitalier, Darius Cosades."

The watch officer nodded and held out his hand. "I will make certain he gets the messages."

Falcotte pulled back the pouch and shook his head. "My instructions were to place this pouch in the Senior Hospitalier's hand or bring it back to the College. There was no provision for entrusting it to anyone else." Falcotte hadn't received any such instructions but the watch officer didn't know that. Falcotte didn't intend to pass the letters off to some underling.

The watch officer, a man accustomed to obedience from those beneath him, was shocked at Falcotte's refusal. Falcotte didn't look impressive, although looks could deceive when dealing with occultists, but he couldn't simply wave off letters from the College of Winterhold, perhaps from the Arch Mage himself.

"Very well, messenger. Follow me." He nodded to the guards who had first met Falcotte and then stared back to the Hospitalier spaces. Falcotte followed him, taking note of the turns they made and doors they went through. In short order, they arrived at a room that contained a large desk and chair and several shelves filled with books.

"Wait here while I let the Senior Hospitalier know you are here with messages for him."

Falcotte nodded, and the watch officer departed. He looked at the books while he waited. The books mostly concerned healing and anatomy, at least that is what Falcotte assumed from their titles. There were also a few on warfare or military tactics, and there was a single book with the title, "Banishing Daedra". Falcotte was thinking that he'd like to spend several days just reading the books in the waiting room when the watch officer returned with Darius Cosades, Senior Hospitalier.

Darius was smaller than the watch officer was and dressed in simple brown robes rather than the red and white robes of the watch officer. He was also smiling broadly and seemed to be on the verge of laughter.

"So, Savos Aren sends me a message after years of practically ignoring me." His voice was full and powerful, and Falcotte could understand how he could stand out in a room full of serious warriors like the watch officer. He held out his hand for the pouch. "I guess you should probably pass them along so that I can read what he has to say."

Falcotte handed over the pouch and said, "Sir, matters at the College have taken a serious turn. It might be best to read these in a more private location."

The Senior Hospitalier's demeanor became more serious, and he indicated that Falcotte should follow him. They went through several doors and up three staircases before reaching another room. Darius Cosades pulled the door shut and placed the satchel on a desk. He opened it, dumped out the three letters, and looked at the writing. "One from Colette Marence, one from Mirabelle Ervine, whoever she is, and the third from Savos Aren. I guess things are serious."

He picked up Colette's letter and read it. He started out reading with a smile on his face, but it faded as he read. After finishing, he picked up the letter from Mirabelle and read it.

"Damn Thalmor," he muttered after finishing the letter.

He opened the letter from Savos Aren. The look of sadness on his face changed to alarm, almost panic.

"Damn them to Oblivion," he nearly shouted.

He turned and pointed at Falcotte. "You need to get out of Solitude and back to the College as quickly as you can. This is not a safe place for you after delivering these letters." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sizable pouch. "Here, take this and get yourself back to Winterhold. Tell Mirabelle I will contact her as soon as I can." The pouch jingled with coins.

Falcotte wanted to ask what had caused Darius to panic so, but the Senior Hospitalier didn't look like he was prepared to answer any questions.

A young boy, perhaps eleven or so, appeared without warning and bowed to Darius Cosades.

"You needed me, sir?"

"Take our guest out to the city and point him in the direction of the gate. Use the back way.

"When he is on his way, inform the members of the Senior Council that I wish to meet with them at the top of the hour.

"Go."

The young boy waved to Falcotte and said, "Follow me, please." Without discussion, the boy led Falcotte through the halls and rooms, toward some exit Falcotte presumed. He'd tried to keep track of how to get back to where he had entered, but that was now impossible. After several minutes, the boy pulled open a door reinforced with metal plates and bands, and sunlight and wind streamed through open door. They were outside Castle Dour. The boy pointed to the right.

"The city gate is that way. The road curves, but it ends at the gate, so do not leave it. Farewell and the Divines guide and keep you." The boy pulled the door closed, and Falcotte was on his own.

Falcotte's head was spinning and he felt dizzy. He'd been in Solitude for less than two hours and had spent less than an hour with the Hospitaliers. Now, he had to flee from Solitude as quickly as possible for some reason that Darius Cosades didn't even bother to explain. He didn't know who might be a danger to him, but he guessed that it was probably the Thalmor. Darius had cursed them and muttered their name shortly after beginning to read Savos Aren's letter. That was the only clue he had in trying to figure out what was happening.

There was traffic building in the street, and Falcotte stepped into the flow and tried to seem calm and natural. It took a few uneventful minutes to get within sight of the city gate. Falcotte was starting to feel better. He would get through the gate and check in at the carriage office to find out when the next carriage was departing. If the next departure was later that day everything would be fine. Even if he had to wait a day or two, he could wait at an inn not far from the office, which he'd noticed when he arrived. If necessary, he could also make it to Dragon Bridge on foot in a few hours, and the road hadn't looked too dangerous when he'd pass through on the carriage.

Traffic was flowing through the gate without interruption until he got close enough for the guards on either side to see and recognize him. One guard left his post to intercept Falcotte, and the other made a waving gesture with his spear.

Falcotte looked left and right to find a way to run but froze when he felt a hand come down on his right shoulder. He slowly turned around and found himself face to face with a pair of Altmer, one male and one female, dressed in the same manner he'd seen Ancano dress. They were undoubtedly Thalmor soldiers. The rest of the people passing by on foot began edging away from the scene and turning their back on Falcotte. Within seconds, the two Thalmor and three men from the Solitude city watch had surrounded Falcotte.

The female Altmer spoke, "What is your business in Solitude?" Her tone was blunt and hostile. She stared at him with unwavering focus.

"I brought a letter from the Restoration Master, Colette Marence at the College of Winterhold to the Senior Hospitalier, Darius Cosades. She had trained here several years ago and asked me to deliver the letter when I said I was traveling through on my way back to High Rock."

"And what did the Restoration Master have to say to the Senior Hospitalier?"

"I did not make any attempt to read the letter. Tampering with the correspondences of mages normally doesn't end well for anyone but the intended recipient of the letter."

"And how is Ancano?"

"I have never spoken directly to him. The closest we have come to talking was when he called me a "vermin" and shouted that I should get out of his way."

The female Thalmor grinned slightly. "That sounds like Ancano." She turned to her companion and said, "Search him."

For an instant, Falcotte wasn't concerned about the Thalmor searching him, but then he remembered the talisman of Talos in his cloak pocket. Falcotte tried to back away, but before he could take more than a single step the male Thalmor cast a spell, and Falcotte couldn't move a single muscle; he couldn't even blink his eyes.

It only took a few seconds before the searcher reached into the pocket and pulled out the amulet.

"Well, a Talos worshipper," said the female Altmer. "Being College trained, I am certain that you are aware the worship of Talos has been outlawed."

Falcotte was aware of what was happening but couldn't protest or try to explain how he had found the amulet.

The Altmer holding the amulet cast another spell, and flames engulfed the amulet. Falcotte watched as the flame consumed the leather throng, and the heated amulet began to glow and deform. After a few seconds, the Altmer dropped the amulet and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot.

"Take him to the cells."

The words were barely out of the female Thalmor's mouth when one of the city watch placed a bag of black cloth over Falcotte's head. The city watch grabbed his arms and Falcotte could feel the tip of a spear or sword blade poking him in the back.

"Do not resist or try to escape, or you will be killed instantly."

The paralysis spell dissolved instantly and Falcotte's knees nearly gave way. The point of the weapon in his back dug into his flesh, and Falcotte felt blood begin to flow. He regained control of his muscles and stood erect.

"Good, let's go."

The next several hours were nightmarish. Falcotte was led to some location where he was stripped, interrogated, and beat repeatedly. He couldn't tell the Thalmor anything substantive about why he was in Solitude or what was contained in the messages, but he didn't think it was what they really wanted. They seemed to take satisfaction in inflicting pain regardless of his answers to their questions. Along with inflicting pain using mundane, physical means, they used magical flames and electricity as well. Falcotte didn't know how long the torture lasted before he finally blacked out.

He'd tried to focus long enough to cast a healing spell on himself or lash out at his tormentors, but he couldn't focus through the intense pain.

Just as he lost consciousness, Falcotte wondered if they would kill him and dispose of the body when they finished torturing him.

When Falcotte regained consciousness, he was on his back in a dark room. He was dressed in tattered pants and shirt made from some coarse material. The only light came from a few widely scattered crystals embedded in the ceiling. They glowed with a weak light, but it was enough to keep the room from being pitch black.

It took a few seconds for the fog of sleep to clear, but then Falcotte remembered where was and what the Thalmor had done to him. He sat up suddenly in panic, but then felt confusion wash over him.

He felt perfectly fine, like he had had a restful night's sleep. The torture had not been a dream. He distinctly remembered hearing the crack when the Thalmor broke a bone in his right forearm, and his body should be swollen and bruised from the beating. There was no evidence of the torture.

Falcotte flexed the fingers of his right hand and felt the faintest twinge of discomfort but nothing else to indicate what he had suffered.

"It's quite evil when you think about it."

The voice shocked Falcotte out of his contemplation. He looked around the room, really paying attention for the first time, and saw that there were several occupants sitting with their backs propped against the walls.

"They beat and torture you and then turn you over to their healers who use you for training. Sometimes people don't come back, so perhaps the torture went too far or the healer wasn't skilled enough or made a mistake. Most of the time though, you are back in the cell when you regain consciousness, pretty much completely healed."

The speaker was a slender man of middle age, probably an Imperial based on the tone and inflection of his voice.

"How long…" Falcotte started to ask.

"Well, they brought you in a few hours ago. I have been here for a few weeks as near as I can guess, and who knows how long they have been doing this.

"I have been through seven torture sessions, but some of the people in here have been through a lot more than that. I think that the repeated torture sessions eventually break the mind even if they heal the body between them. There are a couple of people in here who barely move and never speak."

How long could the mind survive repeated sessions of physical and magical torture if the body was healed between them?

"Why did they bring you here?" asked Falcotte.

"I was caught stealing a ring from a market stall in Markarth. The city watch turned me over to the local Thalmor legate, and I was brought here."

"Markarth?"

"Yeah, folks in here are from all over Skyrim. They were all taken by or turned over to the Thalmor on some pretense and ended up in this cell."

Falcotte closed his eyes and bowed his head as he considered the enormity of the torture program.

The Thalmor had taken all of his possessions, but Falcotte realized that they couldn't take away his most prized possession, his skill with magic. He lifted his head and tried to cast a simple light spell. Nothing happened. The normal flow of energy when he tapped into a source of magic power did not occur. He might just as well have been reading a child's story for all of the effect his words produced.

"The Thalmor have some sort of magic nullification field in place about the cell. At least that is what one former occupant claimed. He said he didn't know how far it extended, but he didn't last long, so I assume that he reached a spot where he could use magic and had tried to escape. For all their faults, the Thalmor are accomplished warriors and mages, so I doubt that a single mage, however powerful, could survive such an escape attempt."

Falcotte got to his feet and took a few steps in a circle. He was having trouble wrapping his head around the situation and accepting how horrific it was.

"Take some time to get your thoughts together and talk to me when you are ready. My name is Cyrius the Pick." Cyrius moved backward until he was up against the wall again and then bowed his head.

Falcotte walked around the space for a few minutes. The room was about 20 by 20 feet with a total of 12 occupants. One corner of the room was a latrine, simply a large hole in floor, and everyone sat as far away from it as possible. Three of the occupants were women. There were actually three people that were nearly catatonic, one woman and two men. They would occasionally blink their eyes, but they didn't move otherwise. Everyone else would occasionally shift position or scratch an arm or leg, but they mostly remained seated with their backs against the wall.

Even in the dim light, Falcotte could tell that everyone was filthy. The stench was horrible but became less noticeable as time passed.

No one tried to talk to him as he paced around the room.

After several trips around, he found an open spot on a wall as far from the latrine as possible, sat down, and began to meditate on his situation. He tried to piece together details of what the Thalmor had done to him and remember anything about the layout or contents of the room where the torture had taken place.

Falcotte was awake and clearing his mind after a second torture session. He had intended to keep track of all of the damage done to him during the session, but he lost focus and track after only a few minutes. Falcotte knew that some of the blows administered by the Thalmor would certainly have caused fatal internal injuries. The Thalmor broke bones that would have resulted in him being forever a cripple. Falcotte suspected that he passed out somewhere in the middle of the session and was healed so the Thalmor could continue torturing him. Like what followed the first session, Falcotte woke up in the cell and didn't feel any noticeable physical after effects.

He was thinking about how he was going to survive. The cell door opened, and a pair of Thalmor soldiers dragged a body inside and left it in the center of the floor. None of the other occupants moved, even Cyrius, and most didn't even look up when the Thalmor slammed the cell door behind them as they departed. Falcotte stood up and walked over to check on the new cellmate.

It was an old man, and it took Falcotte a few seconds to realize that it was Bjorn the Rock. He felt his heart sink; the old man had suffered enough tragedy. He didn't deserve to end his days being tortured by Thalmor sadists. Falcotte made Bjorn as comfortable as possible and returned to his spot on the wall.

Bjorn regained consciousness several hours later. Falcotte looked up when he heard Bjorn sit up and began shuffling about.

"Bjorn the Rock, we meet again."

Bjorn turned his head and grimaced. "Well, Falcotte of the College, I hadn't thought I would ever see you again.

"What is this prison?"

Falcotte explained the Thalmor program of torturing and then healing the cell occupants.

"They don't even have the decency to let a man die after torturing him?" Bjorn asked. "How did you end up in here? Why would the Thalmor risk torturing a mage from the College?"

Falcotte told him about his foolish impulse to pick up the amulet of Talos and put it in his pocket. He described his strange meeting with the Senior Hospitalier and the confrontation at the gate as he was trying to escape Solitude.

Bjorn nodded his head when Falcotte finished. "The letters you delivered carried some news that the Thalmor desperately wanted to hear or didn't want others to hear. They must have known that you would try to flee the city after delivering them, so they were waiting for you."

"Perhaps. I have no idea what the letters contained, so I can't even guess why the Thalmor would be so interested in detaining me.

"What about you, Bjorn? How did you cross the Thalmor?"

"I was just a drunk old man passed out on the streets of the fine city of Solitude. The authorities in all the cities of Skyrim occasionally do sweeps to pick up drunks and vagrants off the streets. Most of the time, these people spend a day or two in a holding cell. They eventually return to the streets with a warning to fix their lives and stay off the streets in the future.

"This doesn't seem like it will be just a couple of days in a cell."

Falcotte pointed to one of the catatonic men. "I suppose that we will all end up like that eventually."

Bjorn shook his head. "No, Falcotte. I would end my days drinking myself to death and living in squalor on the streets of Solitude, but I will not let the Thalmor torture me to that point."

"I don't know how you expect to change that fate, Bjorn. I don't imagine the Thalmor will let you go in return for the promise of drinking yourself to death instead."

"We don't speak of it openly, but the eldest sons in my family inherit a gift of sorts. As a final, fatal act, we are filled with incredible power and can perform feats like those that you hear about in the old tales. We do not feel wounds regardless of how severe. However, our body can't contain the power for long and is ultimately destroyed by it."

"Would it be enough to allow you to break out of here?"

"I don't know. I can wait for the next time the cell door opens and then use my final gift to give you and the others in here a chance to escape.

"Since my elder son is dead and he didn't have any sons, the gift will die with me."

"Is there any hope of surviving?"

"I have only heard the process described in words but have never seen it in action. Some of the descriptions use the words "Divine like" to describe how powerful the person becomes. What human body could possibly channel that kind of energy and survive? No, this will be my final act in this world.

"Don't grieve. It is not a difficult choice to make. I have been wishing for death since hearing of the death of my sons. At least this way will accomplish something useful."

Falcotte nodded. He went around to the other occupants of the cell and told them to be ready when the cell door opened. He didn't know exactly what would happen, but it would be a chance to escape or at least die fighting rather than being tortured to madness or oblivion.

There wasn't a lot of hope in the others, but they said that they would be ready.

Time seemed to pass slowly while they waited. There was no discernible schedule to when the Thalmor would take someone. Normally, the sound of a key in the lock brought dread. Now that the occupants wanted to hear the key, the Thalmor seemed to know and to be ignoring them.

Finally, they heard the sound of the key in the lock. Falcotte didn't know what to expect, but he felt his heart start racing in anticipation. The hinge made a squealing noise as the door opened, and then two Thalmor soldiers stopped into the cell.

There was no slow, climatic buildup as the power flowed into Bjorn the Rock. One instant he was sitting next to Falcotte and the next he was shaking the bodies of the Thalmor, one in each hand, like they were children's dolls. Their necks had instantly snapped, and the bodies flopped about uncontrollably. A golden glow enshrouded Bjorn, and Falcotte could feel a sensation similar to what he felt when near the Eye of Magnus. It really did seem like Talos himself had appeared in the cell and was delivering them. After shaking them for a few seconds, Bjorn tossed them lifeless bodies aside and raced through the door.

The incredible power manifested by Bjorn as well as the speed and savagery of his attack on the Thalmor stunned the occupants of the cell. It took a few seconds to wear off, but then all of the occupants except for the three unresponsive people began moving. They stripped the dead Thalmor of weapons and armor, and Cyrius the Pick quickly located a key ring on one of them.

When the freed occupants raced into the hallway, Cyrius looked around and started to laugh. There were several doors in the hall, and he began to unlock them and free even more prisoners.

"There should be a trail of destruction and dead Thalmor that way," Cyrius shouted, pointing down the hall. "Arm yourselves with whatever you can find and remember what awaits you if you are taken alive!"

The mob of near-crazed men and women surged down the hall, following the path left by Bjorn.

What followed, for Falcotte, was anti-climatic. Bjorn killed every Thalmor in his path, and the surging mob only added to the chaos and destruction as they looted the bodies and rooms. Falcotte followed the trail at an almost leisurely pace. He just wanted to escape and get out of Solitude though, so he didn't bother the pick through the contents of the rooms or search for any kind of treasure to loot.

He eventually reached the point where Bjorn the Rock's body could no longer contain the incredible power that had manifested. The body was lying in the center of the room; steam was rising from any exposed flesh. The eyes were open, and his face seemed to show composed contentment. Bjorn knew that he had died well. Falcotte saw that there were three Thalmor bodies scattered about the room; the passing mob had looted all of them.

Falcotte bent down and closed Bjorn's eyes. He would have liked to take the body with him for a proper burial, but there was no way he could manage that. Instead, he offered a prayer to Talos that he would accept Bjorn the Rock's spirit with honor into the afterlife.

"Thank you for your sacrifice, Bjorn the Rock," he said as he turned to continue his escape from the dungeons.

Without warning, one of the Thalmor, obviously not quite dead, lurched to its feet and charged Falcotte. The Thalmor soldier was reaching out as if he intended on clawing out Falcotte's eyes.

He didn't stop to consider whether the magic nullification field affected this room. Falcotte cast a spell he'd practiced for situations like this, and bolts of lightning erupted from his body and crashed into the onrushing Thalmor. The nullification field did not reach this far, or perhaps, the power that had flooded into Bjorn had destroyed it. Whatever the cause, Falcotte could access to the source of magic power again. The Thalmor's muscles locked up, at first, but then the body began to spasm as Falcotte poured more energy into it. Smoke was pouring out of the mouth and ears when Falcotte finally stopped the spell and the body crumpled in a heap on the floor.

Falcotte took several deep breaths to compose himself and then continued to follow the path left by the escaping prisoners. He didn't encounter any more Thalmor corpses and quickly arrived at a steeply ascending staircase. At the top, he found an open door and several wooden beams that had been used to keep it shut.

Once through the door, he found himself in a large room where several men and women with confused looks on their faces were straightening up the mess left behind by the prisoner's passage. Falcotte and Darius Cosades spotted each other at the same instant. The Senior Hospitalier rushed over, shouting at the younger mage.

"Who were those people? Do you have any idea how much damage they caused? What is going on?"

Falcotte grabbed the older man by the shoulders. It made sense, he thought, that the Thalmor torture chambers would empty out into the Imperial Infirmary. Where else would you expect to find a supply of skilled healers?

"I don't know how it started or how long it has been going on, but that doorway leads down to a series of rooms and holding cells where the Thalmor have been torturing citizens of the Empire." Falcotte was pointing to the door he came through. Darius Cosades opened and closed his mouth several time without saying anything.

Falcotte let go of Darius's shoulders and explained everything that had happened since he left Darius after their initial meeting. Darius Cosades grew paler as the story progressed, and when Falcotte finished telling it, Darius said, "So, it is true."

"What do you mean?" asked Falcotte.

Darius pulled the letter written by Savos Aren from his pocket and handed it to Falcotte. "Read it when you are in a safe place. Show it to Mirabelle Ervine and then ask her to destroy it. Tell the new Arch Mage that I will be contacting her shortly about this matter."

Darius whistled and a Nord woman rushed over to him.

"Take this man to the harbor exit and see that he gets to Jolf's boat. Pay for his passage to Windhelm."

"Wait, I can't travel like this," Falcotte protested. He was still dressed in soiled, stinking rags. "All of my possessions and funds were taken."

Darius pulled another pouch of coins from a pocket in his robes and handed it to the woman. "Clean him up, get him suitable clothing, and then get him down to the harbor. He needs to be safely on his way before the Thalmor or their imperial puppets realize what has happened."

The woman started to drag Falcotte away, but he shook off her grip. "There are more men and women down in there. You need to get them out and treat them. In the first room you come to after going down the stairs, you will find the body of an old Nord man who gave his life to free us. Bury him with honor."

The woman grabbed his shirt again, and Falcotte let her pull him away without asking any of the many questions he had about what he'd just experienced.

Hours later, Falcotte was on a boat heading through the Sea of Ghosts toward Windhelm. The excitement of his adventure in Solitude was falling farther and farther behind him, and he judged that he was in a "safe place" and could read the letter. He was the only passenger, and Rolf didn't show any interest in speaking to him.

The letter was surprisingly short considering the amount of pain and trouble it had brought to his life.

Darius,

It has been more than a decade since we set up the program to train your Hospitaliers here in Skyrim. The civil war has proved to be a fertile source of injuries to use in honing the healing skills of the Hospitalier Order.

I don't know when it happened, but the Thalmor have corrupted the project and have been using its resources and some of your Order to practice torture and information extraction techniques.

Be vigilant and start your own investigation into this corruption. I will be using resources at my disposal to uncover more details so that we can put an end to this unholy appropriation of Hospitalier skills and techniques. Be aware, any move we ultimately make will put us directly at odds with the Aldmeri Dominion and likely the Empire itself as well.

Savos

Well, that at least explained why the Thalmor were waiting for him to escape Solitude. Some of the Hospitaliers were actually working with the Thalmor and had probably been acting as spies within the Order.

As Falcotte considered the situation, he found a positive aspect of his ordeal. The escaping mob of prisoners would reveal the Thalmor program without bringing the Hospitalier Order or College of Winterhold into direct confrontation with the Aldmeri Dominion or Empire. Falcotte wasn't foolish enough to believe that this episode would end the program though. The Thalmor might have several facilities like the one in Solitude, scattered throughout Skyrim. He knew, at the very least, that the Thalmor were taking citizens from various cities throughout Skyrim for their research program.

He, however, was a fugitive from the Thalmor and was likely wanted by the Empire as well. He'd revealed his name and association with the College of Winterhold, so the Thalmor would know where to start looking for him when they started rounding up the escapees from the torture facility. Falcotte wondered if the Thalmor involved would be able to communicate with Ancano some way and warn him about Falcotte's part in revealing the torture program. Could they pass along instructions for Ancano to kill Falcotte?

Then, Falcotte began to wonder about whether the College even still existed. Had Ancano succeeded in tapping or unleashing the full power of the Eye of Magnus?

The journey back to the College still took several days, however travel by boat was much quicker than taking the carriage over land, and the actual distance was much shorter. With barely any interaction with Rolf and no other passengers in the carriage between Windhelm and Winterhold, the whole trip was quiet and uneventful.

However, when he arrived at the College, he found it in a state of uproar and confusion. The Eye of Magnus was gone, Mirabelle Ervine and Ancano were both dead, and a Breton woman named Lyssa Brae, who was even younger than Falcotte, was the new Arch Mage.

Skyrim and Falcotte had changed radically in just a few weeks.


End file.
